Barbed Roses
by Ebony Scales
Summary: Is there someone who can change Snape's visage, who may be able to break through the barrier expertly placed around his heart?Certainly not his school rival's son.Can these two help each other or are both too completely lost within themselves to trust?
1. Shades of Gray

Disclaimer- The characters of Harry Potter do not and will never belong to me. They belong to J. K. Rowling.

Ebony Scales: Hey peoples! I will update this story as I find time. Please Review!

**Barbed Roses**

**Chapter one: Shades of Gray**

Two weeks of Hell. That was how it could be described. He knew there was a valid excuse to be there, but at the moment it could not be recalled. Maybe he was in Hell. Maybe this was punishment for the deaths he had caused; for the people he had killed.

Harry looked at the crack under the door. There was no light coming from the opposite side, so he assumed it was still night. Yet again he looked around the cupboard his relatives pathetically called a room. Yes, Harry was once more a resident of the cupboard under the stairs.

'At least,' His optimistic side quipped, 'I am still alive.'

Thinking on it, Harry knew he should probably be worrying on his health about now. He was excessively skinny and weak. He felt that one of his legshad to bebroken, the pain lacing through it every time it was moved was intense. His body was sore everywhere. Living with his relatives was quite literally torture.

It had not always been so. All those years before, his relatives had mostly ignored him, really, only paying him any mind when there was work to be done. From the earliest time he could remember, around five or so, he had been the housekeeper. As he grew older, there had been few signs of potential abuse. Only the little amount of food he received and the occasional beating, courtesy of Dudley. After starting at Hogwarts, his relatives merely started shouting at him more often. Just recently had it progressed to more than a few pushes here and there.

He recalled the end of the school year, while waiting for his uncle to arrive to pick him up. At his arrival, Harry had noticed his uncle's angry disposition. He hadn't realized what had caused Vernon Dursley's ire, but it was directed at him. When they had reached the house, all of his belongings had been confiscated.

These last few weeks had been the worst. He knew his relatives didn't consider it abuse. Anything that happened was only an accident to them. There would be a little 'trip' down the stairs, after being dragged through the hall to get there, or there would just 'happen' to be a metal kitchen utensil flying through the air towards his head. Harry wasn't delusional enough to actually believe such incidents were truly non-intentional, but on some level, he believed he deserved it.

Harry looked up from his musings. He imagined he had heard the floor creaking. He listened closely now. No, it had not been his imagination. The residents were finally stirring. He could hear them ambling around upstairs, getting ready for the day. Harry tried opening the cupboard door, but it was currently locked.

He quickly quieted as he heard the telltale signs of Vernon Dursley's descent. As Harry heard the steps pause outside of his cupboard, the door was unlocked and opened. His head rang as the man's voice struck his ears.

"Boy! Get out and get to work! Your list of chores is on the table. Get them done by nightfall. You know the consequences of not finishing. Go!" He bellowed.

"Yes, Sir," Harry answered. His uncle seemed happy with the title and left Harry to his chores. Vernon was like that. The man loved feeling empowered. He constantly wanted to show his dominance over anyone around him.

Harry quickly climbed out of his cupboard and scrambled to the kitchen. There, he picked up the list of chores and looked it over. After going over all of the work he would have to do, he nearly groaned. The list was made up of an impossible amount of work. It would be even more difficult to complete now that his body was becoming sluggish with its movements. Harry went over the list a second time and turned to the front door to get started.

After stepping outside, he looked around. It was a scorching day as well as humid. Most of the neighbors were inside with their televisions and air conditioning. Harry walked over to the garden in the front yard to get started on his chores.

* * *

The sun had just finished setting. Harry was ready to fall into a dead faint as he made his way back inside. He had worked as fast as he could throughout the entire day. The only break he had received was at mid-day for a glass of water and a meager lunch. Even with his hard work and attempted haste, he had yet to finish quite a few chores. As he was heading inside, he noticed his uncle's car returning. 

Harry scrambled towards the stairs with all the speed he possessed in his wounded state. He wanted nothing more than to be out of sight when his uncle entered the house. Only partway up the steps, he heard the front door slam open. Harry tried sprinting up the remainder of the stairs, but his protesting leg gave out. Falling down the stairway did nothing to help out the injured boy. In fact, it made the situation much worse in his eyes.

The commotion attracted the eldest Dursley's attention. Having spotted the boy on the landing of the stairs, Vernon advanced upon his nephew.

"_You useless son of a whore!_" Vernon bellowed. Harry wished he could be anywhere else at the moment. He was quite fearful of his uncle. The man had a mad gleam in his eyes and a definite wobble in his step. Harry feared his uncle was drunk. He had seen his uncle in such a state times before, and had learned to hide when Vernon took trips to the local bar.

Dursley staggered over to Harry, his face twisting into a scowl. Harry flinched as the larger man took a hold of his collar and lifted him bodily off the floor. Grimacing as he was punched in the stomach with the free hand, Harry repeated his wish to be elsewhere silently. Vernon threw the small boy into the wall next to him. Harry let no sound of pain or distress pass his lips. He would not give this man the pleasure of hearing him cry out.

As the boy slid to the floor, Dursley stomped over to him and picked him up again, screaming.

"_Up, you filthy bastard!_" Harry bit his lip as he was thrown down again and kicked. The drunken man seemed to tire of this sport, as he had stopped kicking him. Instead, he dragged Harry over to his cupboard door and threw him in, locking the door before leaving to sleep off the alcohol. The darkness and comfort of unconsciousness quickly pulled the beaten boy in.

Hours later, Harry reawakened to a dull throb of pain throughout his body. He quickly sat up, and then groaned his regret at the movement. His attempt at locating the time failed, so instead, he simply stared at the door to his cupboard and began reminiscing on his past mistakes.

* * *

Ebony Scales: Please tell me what you think of this so far. Suggestions and helpful criticism would be much appreciated. Please take the time to submit a review. 


	2. A Dilemma's Solution

**Disclaimer-** The characters of Harry Potter do not and will never belong to me. They belong to J. K. Rowling.

Ebony Scales: Hey peoples! Okay, I have one question. What kind of relationship do you people want Severus and Harry to have? A familial one (more of a father/son relationship) or a romantic one? Review to tell me which you prefer.

**Barbed Roses**

**Chapter two: A Dilemma's Solution**

Ron sat on the couch in the living room of Grimmauld Place. He watched blankly as Hermione paced in front of him. The bushy-haired girl had been doing this quite often recently. Both of them fretted over the last third of their trio, though Ron was better at hiding it.

What had ignited their apprehension was the lack of correspondence between themselves and Harry. While the Order did still receive a letter from Harry every three days, it did nothing to stay the anxiousness of the two good friends. In fact, those letters had only instilled more uneasiness in them. Though the letters always arrived on time, each was short and to the point. It was creepy, actually.

"Hermione," Ron sighed, "you're going to wear a hole in the floor."

She stopped for a moment and stared at him as though trying to comprehend what had been said. Finally, she rolled her eyes and plopped down beside him. The two sat in companionable silence, staring at the fire crackling in the hearth.

"We should do something," Hermione declared. Ron risked a glance at her to gauge her expression.

"We can't, remember? We can't leave the house," he reminded her. He was annoyed because neither of them was privileged to receive news out of the Order meetings, one of which was taking place at this very moment.

He longed to be informed of all the happenings concerning Harry and the maniac. Ron hated being left in the dark. He knew it wouldn't help, even if he were told all of the information, because he still wouldn't be able to do anything. That was what was frustrating. The redhead found his eyes drooping from the warmth emanating from the fire coupled with his stress-induced weariness. He slowly slipped into a peaceful slumber, with Hermione curled at his side.

* * *

Lupin shifted in his chair, glancing at the other occupants of the room. The atmosphere was tense as each was lost in their thoughts. The stress of the war catching up with them, while they tried to form decent plans to keep victims safe and rid themselves of the disgusting creature called Voldemort. 

No one seemed to want to break the silence. It became too much for the usually calm werewolf, as he shifted again and finally voiced the question that was on everyone's mind.

"So, what do we do now?" He looked around again, not really expecting an answer.

"Well, we'll do what we may," Dumbledore replied, scanning those present. Severus did not look too happy.

"And what would that be?" he questioned the Headmaster. Albus turned to Severus and considered his question.

"You, for one, will continue seeking more information. We will use anything gathered to the best of our abilities without giving you away. There is not much else we can do." Albus turned back to the rest of the Order, giving them the chance to make their inquiries.

"What of Harry?" Everyone switched his or her attention back to Remus as he spoke. "I hate him being so isolated. He seems distant. He must still be grieving over Sirius's death. Can't we bring him here?" The werewolf looked hopefully to the Headmaster.

"I am sorry, but with the recent attacks, the boy must stay with his relatives. He will be much more safe there than he would be in any other shelter we could give him." Replied the Headmaster.

"If that is all," a silky voice cut through, "I will take my leave. I did not show up to discuss Mr. Potter's living arrangements." Severus stood up and stalked out of the room.

Shortly after, the meeting was adjourned.

* * *

After walking out on the meeting, Severus made his way directly to Hogwarts' dungeons. Arriving in his private rooms, he wearily took a seat in his sitting room and pondered his summer plans again. He still needed to restock the infirmary. Also, he would need to get started on the wolfsbane potion soon. The full moon was fast approaching. 

After finishing his mental planning, he decided to retire for the night. It was already late evening and he would not be able to accomplish any more this night.

* * *

As Remus and the rest of the Order exited the meeting, Remus spotted the two companions asleep on the couch. He walked over to them and roused them, sending them up to their corresponding rooms. 

The werewolf tracked Albus down before he left, and found him in the kitchen. Remus waited for the Headmaster to finish speaking with Molly before approaching him.

"Headmaster, there must be something we may do about Harry," he pleaded. Dumbledore looked at him for a moment before answering.

"There is not much we can do, Remus. He has to stay under the protection of his relatives house," the older wizard calmly stated.

"He's got to be tearing himself apart, being alone over there. Hell, you've seen those letters! He sounds like a dead soul, completely empty. We've got to do something!" the younger man desperately pleaded. The Headmaster leisurely eyed Lupin.

Realizing how much he had sounded and acted like a child, Remus trailed off, a light flush coloring his cheeks.

Finished at silently admonishing the other professor, Albus answered.

"As I said, there is not much we may do. We can only ever make sure he is well. We can't-."

"Then send someone to check on him! If not, at least give me permission to do so myself!" exclaimed the riled werewolf. Albus looked sharply at him.

"You know you cannot go, you are not going to be well over the next few days." His gaze softened under his companion's pleading eyes. Albus sighed and continued. "I will see what may be done. I will not promise anything, but we will see." Remus looked at him thankfully and walked away.

The Headmaster made his way back to Hogwarts and up to his office. Sitting at his desk, he pulled out a roll of parchment and looked it over. He had made up his mind and would do as his former defense professor asked. He only had to find someone who would be free to take up another task.

Studying the parchment closely, he went through each member of the Order. His first choice would have been Arthur Weasley, but the poor man had enough on his plate, and Molly was busy taking care of the children stationed at Grimmauld Place. Most of his other choices were busy as well, or simply being closely watched for subterfuge by the ministry, as Fudge was still untrusting of the Order.

Albus continued skimming through the rest of the list, wincing as he reached one person in particular. They were free for the moment, though he was hesitant of sending them.

Thinking on it, the wise man smiled mischievously, a look that most would recognize as the expression he acquired when he was scheming. This could only go two ways. Either everything would go well and he would get rid of two rivalries, or it would all go horribly wrong and he would be griped at for the remainder of the year.

Rolling up the parchment, Albus got up, placed it in his desk and headed to his chambers.

'Yes, tomorrow will be a most interesting day,' he thought to himself, chuckling.

* * *

Ebony Scales: Okay, so please review on what you want for Harry and Severus. Romantic relationship or familial relationship? I have the next few chapters already written out, but I can still have it go either way. I will try to keep updating as possible, things are starting to get a bit busier for me. Until next chapter! 


	3. Not Quite Eye to Eye

**Disclaimer-** The characters and settings belong solely to J.K. Rowling.

Ebony Scales: OK, I really could use a little more input on what kind of relationship Harry and Severus should have. I seem to have around 300 people read this and yet have only seen a total of five reviews. For those people who have reviewed, I really appreciate the time you spared to submit them. Now, for you other people, should Harry and Severus have a romantic or familial relationship?

**Barbed Roses**

**Chapter three: Not Quite Eye to Eye**

Severus cursed the Headmaster fluently as he made his way up to the old coot's office. He had been enjoying his morning and starting on Lupin's potion with a cup of coffee in his hand. But such peace never lasted long. There was always something he was called off for, whether it would be to the Dark Lord's side, or running off to do demeaning tasks for his other master and the Order.

It was still relatively early in the morning, and he had already been called to the Headmaster for what would probably be another ridiculous mission. As Severus reached the gargoyle guarding the entrance to the Headmaster's office, he quickly growled out this week's password of "Skittles". He had never understood the old man's fixation with sweets, but it irritated the highly irritable potions master to no end. Severus could almost swear the man did it on purpose.

He strode up the steps and, at reaching the door to Albus' office, walked in without bothering to knock.

"Good morning, Severus," the Headmaster greeted jovially.

"Spare me the idle chit-chat, Albus. What do you want?" Severus returned with a glare.

"Right to the point, I see," Albus replied, either oblivious to or ignoring the glare directed at him. Dumbledore looked down and shuffled through some of the papers, placing them neatly into piles to the side of his desk. After finishing this task, he turned his gaze back to the professor in front of him, his expression dropping.

"Severus, you have done much for the Order. You have often provided us with invaluable information, risking yourself to gather it."

At this, the Potions Master raised an eyebrow, vaguely wondering what the insane old wizard was getting at. The Headmaster continued.

"I'm sorry, but it seems I must ask you to take on another task on behalf of myself."

The guarded man looked sharply at Albus. He knew that tone of voice. Whatever came out next, it would not be something he would agree with, he was sure.

"What is it, Albus?" Severus asked warningly. The older wizard ignored his question in favor of calming the riled man, even before he received the undesirable news.

"It is simple, really. Not much time will be taken off your hands, and little effort will be needed. Just pop in, pop out, and report on anything you find. Nothing difficult. We just need-."

"Albus!" Severus interrupted. He didn't wish to listen to the old man ramble. He wanted to know what the Headmaster was trying to trap him into doing.

"Tea, Severus?" Albus asked, "Perhaps some biscuits?" Severus clenched his jaw, willing away his frustration.

"Headmaster, what is it you need me to do?" he calmly asked. Dumbledore sighed and replied in the same manner.

"Severus, I need you to visit the house of Number Four, Private Drive, to check up on Harry Potter." Severus could not believe this, and made it known.

"There is no way I am going to be forced into this demeaning task," he firmly replied. Albus just gazed calmly at him.

* * *

Hours later found an irritated Potions Master angrily striding down the halls of the relatively empty school, heading towards the safety of his dungeons. 

'Damn that man!' he silently cursed. He had a day, okay, half a day. Half a day until he had to check on that spoiled little, impudent brat. He was not looking forward to the confrontation.

Snape stormed back down to his dungeons, his robes billowing menacingly behind him. If that unbearable child were just moping around to garner attention, then attention he would get, albeit the wrong kind he was looking for.

Entering his rooms, the Potions Master started preparing for his expedition to Private Drive the next day. Almost gleefully, he placed ingredients and vials back on the shelves and in the cupboards. He would gladly give the boy a tongue-lashing for this game of his. He finished dumping the ruined potion out and cleaned the cauldron. Suddenly, tomorrow did not look so depressing. Severus went to bed early that night.

The next day, Severus awoke at just five in the morning. He got ready for the day fairly quickly, and casually started on his breakfast. Finishing off his plate, he checked the time again. Only six o'clock. There was still time enough to make it over there at a leisurely pace. For once, he was looking forward to seeing the boy. He needed something to take out his frustration on. Spying was a rather arduous craft. The chance of being caught weighed on his mentality daily. The chance to vent had presented itself, and he was going to take it.

An hour later, Severus was stalking down the street to Private Drive. Evilly smirking inside, the Potions Master approached the door to Number Four. He paused, glancing at the perfectly normal house.

'Disgusting,' he thought. There were gardens with useless plants littering the ground, annoyingly loud wind chimes hung everywhere, and ridiculous porch ornaments depicting 'cute' scenes of summer sat near the door.

Irritated, Snape scowled as he finished surveying the house. He paused a moment before his hand reached the door to knock. He heard yelling from inside the house. The voice rumbled through the house, reaching his ears with ease.

"Boy! Get over here! Pick this up!" it roared. Severus raised his hand and knocked loudly enough to announce his presence. His annoyance rose as no one came to answer the door. He repeated the action, this time getting a response.

A heavyset man appeared in the doorway, face flushed to an unflattering shade and breathing heavily.

'Repulsive,' was all that came to Snape's mind. Keeping on his mask of indifference, he got directly to the point.

"I am a professor at the school your nephew attends. I am here to check on Mr. Potter," he stated, slightly amused at the sight of the man's rapidly paling face. The door was slammed in Severus' face, an action that did not help his rapidly declining mood. In short, the Potions Master was bordering on royally pissed.

* * *

Ebony Scales: Okay, since I forgot to do this earlier, I would like to thank my first two reviewers, Merlynne and Hamberes.

I would also like to thank those who have given me their opinion on what kind of relationship Harry and Severus should have. For you others who are reading, please review. Helpful criticism is welcome. I will try to update again soon, but I can make no promises. I have been rather busy lately, and can't always find the time to type this story up.

Din Dawning: Yo! What's up y'all! I'm Ebony Scales best friend who sits there & watches her type (With Agony!), 'cause it takes her forever. But I just sit there, throwing candy at her. Anywayz… no offense to y'all, but I'm not a big Harry Potter fan. For all I care it could die. (Don't hurt me) cowers. It's ok. Not bad. But hey, y'all will see me every so often & I'll come bringing interesting stories. Oooooo Awwww! Ok. I'm done now so byes! PS**: LEAVE A DAMN RESPONSE WILL YA!** Ok bye! Ebony's hurting me so I think y'all should leave that response & tell her to stop. & maybe something about the story. .. but you don't have to. But you do! Not much sense huh… ok I'm leaving for real now. Enjoy the rest of the story. See ya later! Byes. PPS: my grammar sucks. Maybe not now cause she's fixing it. (E.S.: At least what she'll let me fix!) (D.D. hi again! I hate her)

Ebony Scales: Sorry about that. She got a hold of my keyboard. Now she won't let me delete it. (D.D. Oh Darn those damned fudge monkeys)


	4. Shattered Illusions

**Disclaimer-** The characters and settings belong solely to J.K. Rowling.

Ebony Scales: Hey peoples! I'm a little happier with the reviews, but don't stop there! Any helpful criticism would be appreciated. Don't forget to vote on what type of relationship you would be interested in Severus and Harry having. Familial or romantic?

**Barbed Roses **

**Chapter four: Shattered Illusions **

Harry woke with a silent scream. He had been tormented with dreams of losing all of those he cared for again. Such dreams overcame him night after night. Eventually, he learned to utter no sounds while stuck in his nightmares. He had learned that quite quickly, remembering when he used to be unable to hold back his cries. At those times, he'd wake up to punches and kicks due to the waking of Vernon. Eventually, to save himself from more pain, he learned to be silent. He still could not stay quiet during visions, for which he was regretful.

Harry shook from the aftereffects of his nightmare. He tried to calm his racing heart, but to no effect. Giving up on slowing his short, panicked breaths, he reached into a crevice in the corner of his cupboard. His hand reached around and, finally coming into contact with the item of his desire, pulled the object carefully out.

Gleaming faintly in his hand was the alluring form of a knife. The boy took little time to admire it before quickly running it across his skin. It only took moments for his small frame to relax, the stress leaking out of his body like the blood from the fresh cut on his arm. He had many other cuts. Some were more recent, others in the process of fading.

Harry had started cutting near the end of the school year at Hogwarts. It had stared as an accidental incident, and then a curious experiment. He found it was relaxing to him, a distraction from his dreams and visions. It had finally formed into a habit, and he sometimes hated himself for it. He was drawn to it and often relied on the action of cutting himself to become calm.

Having finally calmed himself, Harry placed the knife back into its resting place. Harry heard sounds indicating that the other occupants of the house were awake as well. A few minutes later, the door of his cupboard was being unlocked. He was finally let out of the darkness, if only to have him work on the chores given to him. With the usual warning, Harry started on the dishes lying out for him.

With the cuts on his wrist protesting to the soapy water, Harry quickly dried off his hands and looked back to his list of chores. Sighing, he climbed the stairs to work on Dudley's room.

Hours later, Harry was sluggishly cleaning the sitting room. He had only completed three of his tasks. The tired boy slowly dragged his feet from here to there in an effort to finish another chore. His uncle, who was lazing his Saturday away on the sofa, must have gotten fed up with seeing his slow progress and finally lost his patience.

"Boy! Get over here! Pick this up!" he screamed, pointing at a pile of clothing that had probably just been thrown down by Dudley. Harry limped over to it with as much speed as he could muster. Reaching the pile, he stuffed it into his arms and headed up the stairs.

Returning from the laundry room, Harry heard the front door slam shut as he stepped down to the first floor. He looked questionably at his uncle, who only glared in return as if he had done something out-of-line. The boy was about to leave to avoid a confrontation he would not win when the door opened of its own accord. He and his uncle both started at the sudden movement.

Harry stared wide-eyed at the intruder. It was none other than Professor Severus Snape. Harry was cursing his luck. Fate must be laughing at him right now, he was sure. This was the last person he needed to see him in any situation with his relatives. The man loved degrading him in front of his peers, and this would only give him more ammunition.

Harry snuck into the kitchen and pressed against the wall next to the doorway, careful not to be seen. From here, he was able to hear the occurring dialogue without being noticed by either of the conversationalists.

"You are going to retrieve Mr. Potter before I am forced to take steps you may regret. After retrieving the boy, you are going to refrain from opening your oversized mouth as I speak with him," Harry heard Snape order in a dangerous tone. Vernon stuttered for a moment before gathering his wits about him.

"You are not going to order me around in my own home!" he stated in an incredulous voice. Harry was about to peer around the doorway to watch the proceedings, but Dudley obviously had other ideas. The smaller boy was grabbed from behind and, with almost no difficulty, thrown into the cupboard, hitting his head roughly on the way in. Harry heard voices coming from the sitting room, but was too dazed to make out the actual words. He attempted to tune them out to clear his head.

* * *

Snape's P.O.V.

I couldn't believe this. There was no way this was the uncle of Albus' 'Golden Boy'. Though this may be where the boy gets his nerve. I pulled my wand out and magically forced the door open.

"You are going to retrieve Mr. Potter before I am forced to take steps you may regret. After retrieving the boy, you are going to refrain from opening your oversized mouth as I speak with him," I informed him, doing my best to intimidate the man. He stuttered briefly before becoming indignant.

"You are not going to order me around in my own home!" he cried. His mere voice was angering me.

A muted sound came from the kitchen as I pointed my wand at Potter's uncle. He seemed most terrified of the threat of magic, which I used to my advantage. The man turned into a stuttering, quaking mess at the sight of the wand, a fine imitation of Quirrell, one of the previous incompetents hired to teach defense. Forget where Potter gets his nerve, this man would be running at the first hint of danger.

A muffled thud from the kitchen caught my attention as I was threatening the patriarch of the family. I turned towards the doorway leading to the kitchen. There was a boy, most likely Mr. Dursley's son, making his way out of the room, his size rivaling that of his father.

"Where is Mr. Potter?" I inquired of him. The boy, seemingly unsure of himself, looked to his father for guidance. One flick of the wand gained his attention and, subsequently, an answer.

"H-he's in his room," Dudley stuttered out, slowly inching his way towards the staircase. I glanced back at the elder Dursley as the overweight child scurried up the steps as fast as he could, clutching his bottom and screaming for his mother as he went.

"Where is his room?" I asked with forced patience. The cowering man pointed towards the kitchen and started hovering near the stairway. I narrowed my eyes at him.

"You will be accompanying me until I retrieve him," I stated. Mr. Dursley nodded nervously and made his way to the kitchen as I motioned for him to go ahead of me. Dursley stopped in front of a small cupboard door and anxiously peered at me. I stopped and raised an eyebrow in question, causing him to look away quickly.

"Well?" I asked impatiently. I had a feeling I was not going to like the next thing that came out of his mouth. Potter's uncle motioned at the cupboard door.

"This is the boy's room."

…I was right.

My vision of the Potter boy's home-life shattered before my eyes. I impatiently pushed Dursley aside while reaching for the door. As I unlocked and opened said door, I heard an unmistakable whimper of pain and fear. I was stunned as I looked upon the poor boy. The very same boy I had thought to be lavished with praise and unnecessary attention at home.

Potter was curled in a corner of the small space of the cupboard. His wide eyes stared at me in panic. When I reached in to help him out, he flinched. I was growing angry, but not at this abused boy. Merlin, no. The fact that this boy's own family would treat him in such a way was an eye opener. I never thought one could grow up in such an environment and yet stay so innocent and joyful.

I reached in for Potter again, talking in soft, soothing tones as I did so, a rare sight indeed. The boy seemed to realize I meant no harm and finally allowed me to assist him out of his dark prison.

* * *

Ebony Scales: I would like to thank those people who have reviewed this story and stuck with it thus far. Please remember that helpful criticism and ideas would be appreciated. The relationship between Severus and Harry can still go either way; so keep voting for what you would prefer to see. Thank you. 


	5. Without the Insight

**Disclaimer-** The characters and settings of Harry Potter belong solely to J.K. Rowling.

Ebony Scales: I am pleased with the reviews I have received, but don't stop! The polls are still open on the type of relationship you would prefer between Severus and Harry. (And, yes. You may vote more than once, but I would prefer if it was one vote per chapter.) 

This goes out to one of my reviewers: Manx- Thank you for pointing that out, I'll try to go back and fix it. Don't hesitate to point out any other inconsistencies.

**Barbed Roses**

**Chapter five: Without the Insight**

Snape turned back to Mr. Dursley, his anger evident in his hard stare.

"Where are Mr. Potter's belongings? Bring them to me quickly," he spoke, softly, but with venom lacing every word. Vernon turned and hurried up the stairs, only to return a few moments later dragging a trunk. Harry had since gained his bearings and was marveling at his professor's tolerance of him.

Snape placed a hovering charm on the trunk and started striding towards the front entrance. Absently, he turned his gaze back to Harry, who had not been following. Instead, Harry was peering nervously at his uncle, who had finally regained some nerve and was glaring viciously at the small boy.

"Mr. Potter, are you able to walk?" Snape questioned carefully, keeping his anger from showing through his voice. Harry glanced at him, disregarding the threat of his uncle.

"I think so. Well, I'm not sure," was his uncertain answer. When Dudley had forced him back into the cupboard, he seemed to have upset his leg injury. Snape came back and helped to support him as they left the house.

Apparently feeling the need to have the last say in the little confrontation that had taken place, Vernon stuck his head out of the door and called to them.

"That's right, Freaks! Run away while you can! If only I had my shotgun! Then I'd never have the likes of you darken my doorstep again!" he yelled, beginning to close the door. Snape paused, raising his wand. With a bored expression set on his face, a quiet curse was spoken and a violent purple light leapt from the raised wand. An agonized shriek erupted from inside the living room, shortly dwindling down to a pained moan. The man honestly had no self-preservation skills.

"Do not threaten me, Mr. Dursley. I won't take it too well," the Potions Master advised. He was rather amused by the man's reaction to the curse. Really, it wasn't that painful. He should only be a bit sore. Snape continued helping Harry to their destination, the younger boy sneaking occasional glances at his professor.

As the two reached the edge of the anti-apparition wards surrounding Private Drive, Snape turned to Harry.

"From here, we are going to apparate to Hogsmeade. From there, we will have to walk up to Hogwarts. Can you make it that far?" he asked. Harry looked back, unsure of himself.

"I'm not sure. I might be able to make it," he replied. His professor nodded and reached around Harry to pull him forward.

Severus moved a bit too fast, causing Harry to flinch and fall when he tried to back away. The professor was silently admonishing himself for forgetting the boy's condition. It was going to take some getting used to. He slowly moved forward to help the young wizard up, speaking as he did so.

"To successfully tandem-apparate, we must have substantial contact. I don't believe you would appreciate searching for a lost body part otherwise," he explained. Harry allowed a nervous smile to cross his face at the comment. He allowed his professor to pull him into an embrace, closing his eyes at Snape's warning.

There was a feeling of weightlessness that passed over Harry. When he found the ground beneath his feet again, he swayed with nausea. His professor held him still for a moment before letting him go.

"Are you ready?" he asked in a business-like manner. Harry nodded, wincing as the movement jarred his head. Snape set a reasonable pace, and they both made their way towards the gates of Hogwarts.

On the path, Severus regarded Harry's health. He noted the boy's thin frame as well as the bruising on his face and arms. He did not have a view of the younger wizard's legs or torso, but from the limp and the way he held himself, it looked as if there were more injuries.

Severus quickly turned back to the path. He did not like his changing views on the Potter child. He rather enjoyed the arrangement of the years before: mutual hatred. Severus did not usually react well to change.

Moments later, the duo's progress was halted as Severus heard a soft thump behind him. Checking for the source of the noise, he saw the Boy-Who-Lived picking himself off of the ground. The boy's arms were shaking with the effort of supporting himself. He looked rather sickly, pale and sweaty.

Snape kneeled next to the fallen boy, helping him back to his feet. A moderately embarrassed Harry muttered his thanks, and the two resumed their journey to the magical school.

As they reached the front doors, the professor hustled Harry into the infirmary. Madame Pomfrey had Harry settled on a bed in record time and was checking over his health using a variety of magical scans. She clucked her tongue at his weight and bustled around gathering various potions. Before administering them, she turned to the waiting professor.

"Severus, would you be so kind as to fetch the Headmaster for me? I need to speak with him before caring for young Mister Potter here," she asked politely. Severus scowled and, feeling quite like a servant, carried out the medi-witch's request.

After catching the old man as he was leaving his office, Severus tried to sneak back down to the safety of his dungeons. Not that he would ever admit to doing so, he just really had hopes of avoiding any conversation with the man. Unfortunately, Albus kindly 'requested' that the Potions Master join him in the hospital wing, foiling his plans of escape. Defeated, he complied.

As the two reached the hospital wing, Madame Pomfrey called to Dumbledore from her office. The kind Headmaster quietly made his way over and closed the door behind him, leaving Severus alone with the injured child.

Both stayed resolutely silent until the Headmaster returned with the medi-witch close behind. Severus noted that Albus definitely looked a bit less jovial.

"Hello, Harry. How are you feeling?" he asked with the air of a loving grandfather.

"Fine, I guess," Harry answered. The Headmaster gave the younger boy a piercing look, but did not comment. Instead, he continued.

"First thing's first. We need to get you healed up. Maybe afterwards we could bring up something for you to eat?" Dumbledore suggested. Harry gave a non-committal shrug, to which the Headmaster nodded. Poppy Pomfrey bustled about, gathering different potions from her stores, occasionally conferring with Albus and seemingly pointing things out to him. Once she was finished having Harry take the healing draughts thrust at him and using the occasional spell to speed along the healing process, the medi-witch left the three to discuss what was to be done.

"Well, then. Shall we consider your living arrangements? You will not be returning to the Dursley household; that much is obvious. I rather believe you would not enjoy being kept in the infirmary, either," Dumbledore looked fondly at Harry.

"Can't I just stay in the Gryffindor dormitories?" he asked, confused.

"No, no. That simply would not do. The dormitories are locked up during the summer. Besides, someone needs to keep an eye on you. What would you say to lodging with one of the professors? I'd let you stay with myself, but I'm afraid I will not always be available," the Headmaster reasoned.

"Well, who would I stay with?" Harry asked, fearing what the Headmaster would come up with.

"Actually, I believe Severus, Professor Snape that is, would be free to do so. He will be present the most out of us. Severus?" The Headmaster turned to the irritated Potions Master.

Not wanting to make a fool out of himself in front of the boy by getting into, and subsequently losing an argument with the Headmaster, he agreed. He knew that no matter what he did, he'd still be stuck with the boy. In the end, the manipulative fool would get what he wanted anyway.

Snape nodded briskly and swept out of the hospital wing. He planned on making the most of his peaceful time in his chambers before Potter invaded them.

* * *

Ebony Scales: Well, it took a bit longer than expected to get this chapter out. I'm trying. Please leave an opinion. Believe it or not, they really do help.

Din Dawning: Hi peoples! I bet you're all wondering why I chose the name Din Dawning. Well, I'll tell you! It's the name of my manga character. Ebony & I are into anime & for all those who don't know what it that is; you have no life. Ok, well that's not true, but so what. Anywayz… I have my own little series going & if & when I ever get it up on the net, y'all can read it! Its called Dusk till Dawn! I'll probably have something up before ebony's done with her story so I'll clue ya in on what it's sorta about. Anywayz, bye for now & hey, leave some opinions! Tell us how you like the story so far or if I should shut up or something! Ask about Dusk till Dawn! Just leave something, 'k. bye.


	6. Hidden From Those Who Care

**Disclaimer-** The characters and settings of Harry Potter belong solely to J.K. Rowling.

Ebony Scales: While I apologize for not getting this out sooner, I have not been receiving many reviews to encourage me to do so. I need to know that there are people out there that are reading it. This story is for me and does not necessarily need to be posted. I can leave it on the paper it is written on. I you wish for this story to continue to be posted, leave a review. If not, why are you reading?

**Barbed Roses**

**Chapter six: Hidden From Those Who Care**

Days passed slowly for Harry. All he was able to do was waste time by lying in bed, waiting for company, or something a bit more constructive such as reading a book. He had such a high level of boredom a couple of times that he had cracked open a school text from one of the previous years. Madame Pomfrey had yet to release him from her care, and he sometimes wondered if she wasn't just seeking company to relieve her of her loneliness over the summer. Harry did feel much better now that he was allowed full meals every day, though he was still extremely thin.

The Headmaster did visit him now and then when time allowed. His occasional visits were uneventful, intended only to occupy the restless young man. The Professor had heard from Harry's two friends, Ron and Hermione, who had asked to be allowed to visit. They were scheduled to arrive tomorrow. Harry had hopes of Remus Lupin accompanying them. He had not yet heard from the kind man and missed the last trustworthy Marauder terribly. Harry only feared that Remus, too, might blame him for Sirius's death. He surely wouldn't blame the grieving werewolf.

* * *

Morning dawned bright and warm. Sunlight streamed through the window and into the infirmary where one Harry Potter sat, fretting over the meeting to come.

Harry had had a fitful night of sleep. To stop himself from worrying so much, he had to continuously remind himself that it was only his friends that were coming, and that they would not shun him. Sometimes, though, he found himself wishing they would. He had always worried for their safety, certainly more than he did his own. Harry understood that simply knowing him put those he called friends at risk for being targeted.

The boy was so absorbed in his thoughts that a quietly opened door went unnoticed. He jumped as a cheerful greeting rang through the room. Turning, his sight was immediately obscured by two overexcited faces. Harry quickly plastered on a smile and returned the greeting.

"Hey, Ron! Hermione!" he welcomed their company with fake enthusiasm. It did not pass his observation that Remus was missing from the small reunion.

"Harry, why didn't you write to us? What happened? No one from the Order would tell us what was going on!" exclaimed Ron.

"Ron! You know they can't do that!" Hermione admonished, fleetingly thinking on how ironic it was that their roles had been reversed since the last time they had this conversation.

Harry laughed at his friends' antics, feeling much more relaxed after watching the other two bicker. The two visitors were soon immersed in light chatter.

When Ron and Hermione finally left, Harry was exhausted. He had had a much better time than he had expected he would. It helped that the trio had completely avoided the issue of why he was in the infirmary. They had asked once, but Harry had skirted the question. The two good friends hadn't tried again, for which he was thankful. The Boy-Who-Lived really would rather they not know. The fact was that the entire experience made him feel weak. Dumbledore had advised him to share the incident with his friends, but Harry was against that idea. Weakness was something he was loath to share with others.

Harry spent the rest of the day looking through quidditch books to amuse himself. That night he somberly thought of how Remus must have been too angry with him over Sirius's death to bother to visit. He went to sleep with a heavy heart, the recently waning light of the full moon illuminating his face.

* * *

Ebony Scales: As I said, I would like to see more reviews. They keep me posting. And yes, I know. Short chapter. Next one should be longer. 


	7. The Discomfort of Change

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing of the Harry Potter series, but surely I can wish.

Ebony Scales: For those who have reviewed this story, I thank you. I update as soon as I find the time and the inspiration. I just started on a new story, so when I'm not working on one, I will most likely be working on the other. I have caught up too far on the typing, so updates will be irregular.

**Barbed Roses**

**Chapter Seven: The Discomfort of Change**

Severus strode through the halls with purpose, the chill of the morning having little impact on him. He breezed past the staff office, where many of his colleagues usually migrated each morning to enjoy a cup of coffee with a companion. He never was one for such things. Severus was currently making his way towards the Hospital Wing. The Potter brat was being released today and the unsympathetic professor had the 'pleasure' of guiding the boy to his rooms.

The Potions Master was a bit more irritable today than usual. The full moon had been three days ago and he had barely gotten the wolfsbane potion to Lupin on time. The whole episode with Potter and the Dursley's had left the first batch ruined, leaving little time to remake it and get it to Lupin. During the last two days, Severus had been stuck restocking the infirmary's medical potions at Pomfrey's insistence. It wasn't that he disliked making potions. No, Severus loved brewing, but certain things were not as enjoyable any longer. So many years of repetition had dulled the excitement of the art.

Snape stalked into the infirmary with a dark expression. The –Boy –Who –Lived was sitting on the bed, dressed and, apparently, waiting for his arrival. Snape raised eyebrow at the boy before sweeping back out of the room, figuring the boy would follow.

Harry slipped off the bed and hurried after the striding form of his professor. He silently prayed he would not actually have to spend time with the older man. He knew his luck would run out and he would end up pissing Snape off if he was forced to be around him.

A little immaturely, he wondered if living with Snape would give him better opportunities to prank the man. Harry tossed away that train of thought before it could get any further. He knew upsetting Snape was a bad idea, especially while he was under the man's care.

Harry was brought out of his thoughts when he noticed Snape had stopped walking and was looking impatiently at him. Embarrassed, Harry picked up his pace to catch up. Reaching his professor, he looked around for a painting or door that would lead into Snape's quarters.

Nothing.

He wondered if Snape had finally cracked. The man was looking expectantly at the stretch of wall in front of him. As if detecting his derogatory thoughts, the Potions Professor turned and scowled at him. Harry stared resolutely at the wall, not wanting to risk peeking at Snape.

The older wizard focused his gaze back on the wall, looking for the carving guarding the entrance to his chambers. Once he found it, Snape pressed a fingertip to the head of the carving and spoke softly, being careful to not allow Potter to hear mostly out of spite.

Harry watched as his professor pressed a finger to the wall and murmured what Harry assumed to be the password. Cracks appeared on the wall, shaping the outline of a door.

Snape pushed forward on the door and walked into the room that was revealed. Harry followed uncertainly, hoping he wouldn't have his head bitten off for some preconceived wrongdoing. The room was rather dark, though this was not unexpected. These quarters were located in the dungeons after all. The décor did nothing to brighten the surroundings. In fact, the rugs and chairs situated on the floor in front of the fireplace, being a dark indigo color, only added to the dark and dreary atmosphere.

Severus turned to consider the boy he would be forced to baby-sit until the start of term. He was not happy with the job, but he had done many other unpleasant tasks in the past. This would hardly compare. Potter was currently looking around the room in interest. He snapped the boy out of his visual exploration with his sharp voice.

"This is my sitting room. You will clean up after yourself when you use it." Pointing to a hallway on the right, he continued.

"Down there is your room, which is the first door, a bathroom, and my room, at the very end of the hallway. Do not enter my room without my permission." Harry watched as his professor gestured toward a doorway out of the sitting room and informed him it led to the kitchen.

"The door in the kitchen leads to my lab. You are not to enter it under any circumstance. If I ever find that you have entered it, I am sure I will be able to find a fitting punishment," he warned. Harry got the sudden mental image of being cut up and used in a potion.

'_Well, no pissing off the Potions Master,_' he thought to himself.

Harry sat in his new room, looking through his books. Snape had dismissed him some time ago, locking himself in his lab and leaving Harry to occupy himself. Harry was getting desperate to find something to end his eternal boredom. After the mini-"tour" of the quarters, the professor had informed of the rules he would have to abide by. The Gryffindor had to tell Snape where he would be any time he left Snape's quarters. He also now had a curfew of nine o'clock. After the lecture, the Boy-Who-Lived had just shut himself in his new room.

It wasn't all that bad, if you discounted the dullness. The room was a nice size, as was the bed and dresser. The walls didn't seem nearly as dreary as those in the sitting room, though they were still a dark indigo. Maybe it was just the fact that he got his own room that made it so much more welcoming. He wasn't sure.

Harry sat back on his bed, giving up on the fruitless search for some form of entertainment. He considered just sneaking out, but he didn't feel up to dealing with an irritated Snape just yet. When boredom finally got the best of him, he pulled out last year's transfiguration text and started on his summer work.

It had been hours since he had shown the Potter boy his living quarters and hours since he had last seen the brat. He almost groaned at the damage that must have been done to his rooms during the time he had left the boy unsupervised. Severus wearily cleaned his workstation and relinquished himself to the horrors that lay beyond the door to the rest of his rooms.

Once he had left his lab, he was almost astonished with what he found. Everything was peacefully silent. No excess noise anywhere. Snape automatically figured something was wrong; nothing was ever quiet with adolescents around. As he reached the door to his guest's rooms, he listened a bit more closely.

Nothing.

Snape knocked lightly twice before opening the door himself. He never was one for waiting patiently and these were still his quarters. He almost rolled his eyes at the scene that met him. The Boy-Who-Lived was asleep over some parchment with textbooks piled on the floor beside the bed.

The Potions Master did not stay long. If the boy wanted to be up all night, far be it for him to ruin his plans. Either way, it didn't affect any of the professor's arrangements, as long as the blasted boy didn't get up in the middle of the night and wander off. Severus made his way back to his lab, intending to spend the remaining daylight hours bending over his bubbling concoctions before turning in for the night.

When Harry awoke, it was just beginning to get darker outside. A breeze swept through the room, tugging at the window curtains. Harry had taken full advantage of the window while he was working on his summer work. He couldn't be happier with his room now. A window had always made a room seem less stifling. The thing that made the boy wonder was how he was able to open it and actually get a breeze. He was aware that magical windows could show the weather as it was outside, but never would have thought one could be opened. He knew the window had to be magical since he was below ground level.

Harry shifted in his bed, growing restless. He did not feel like going right back to sleep, having just woken up. The boy got up and walked to the door of his room. Being uncertain if he would be yelled at for leaving the room, he hesitated before opening the door and making his way to the sitting room. The fire was still crackling away in the hearth, shedding a dim light throughout the room. Harry walked up to the sofa sitting in front of the fire. With nothing else to occupy himself with, he gazed at the fire. Lost in his thoughts, he never noticed as his eyes drifted shut into a troubled sleep for the second time that day.

* * *

Ebony Scales: Okay, please review. If anything seems inconsistent, feel free to point it out, otherwise, just give your opinion on the story so far. 


End file.
